tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post4034568774111796100..comments2015-03-31T08:42:38.610-07:00Comments on TOM CLARK: CellsZephirinenoreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-47158718571369476402012-08-04T16:29:16.986-07:002012-08-04T16:29:16.986-07:00El Dorado, Man of Gold
One.
He jumped into the i...El Dorado, Man of Gold<br /><br /><br />One.<br />He jumped into the icy lake. Pine pitch <br />glittering with gold dust<br />stuck to his body. It kept him warm.<br />After he jumped out of the water<br />the gold sank to the bottom of the lake.<br />The subjects on the shore clapped wildly.<br />He must have looked like a golden human fish.<br /><br />Two.<br />We watched once at Lake Tahoe while<br />a man scuba dived in the clear cold water.<br />We sat on the piney beach with my mom<br />in the golden sand. My mom was topless.<br />We were so embarrassed. Please <br />put on your top, we said. That man will see.<br />She lifted her arms above her head and stretched.<br />European style, she said.<br />It took about a minute to get too cold<br />jumping in and out of the water, ignoring her.<br />Our fingers were so blue the sun did not warm them.<br /><br />Three.<br />On the beach near Nome we took Kathleen Kennedy<br />and her friend Sophie for a picnic the second day<br />they stayed with us. My dad smoked a cigarette<br />then another, watching the topless teenagers<br />jumping in and out of the waves. Their breasts<br />larger than the hands that held them. My dad’s<br />cigarette stub glowing dangerously close to his fingers.<br />Kathleen trying to pop corn after the salmon roast,<br />using only salt, no oil, her method. The popcorn<br />burning black as the abandoned starts of driftwood.<br /><br />Four.<br />Mayor Bill Stirling and Katherine Thalberg look so much alike.<br />Like brother and sister. Katherine has gold chains against<br />her collarbones. Her bookstore comes alive when Bill <br />walks in to give her a rose. This is Aspen, where the winters<br />are often frozen. The rich fly in and out of the icy valley.<br />The poor live in teepees if they’re lucky. Katherine and Bill<br />stay warm long after their smiles flash golden.<br /><br />Five.<br />He would jump into the icy lake. Pine pitch on his body.<br />He glittered with gold dust. Underneath the water he opened<br />his eyes and the coldness and flashing of the water made him<br />want to linger as long as possible.<br /><br />Six.<br />Out in back right next to the hot tub my sister’s in-laws from Romania<br />wanted their picture taken with my Dad’s golden pistol he always keeps<br />in his closet within easy reach of his bed where he dreams.Susan Kay Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-12090455475098612162012-08-04T15:15:24.436-07:002012-08-04T15:15:24.436-07:00Humboldt’s Caves and Lakes
He works on his book ...Humboldt’s Caves and Lakes<br /><br /><br />He works on his book Cosmos<br />a book recording everything observable<br />to a human German. Humboldt went to a lake in South America.<br />The lake was named Guatavita near Bogota’, but on his map<br />Humboldt drew mythical Lake Parima instead<br />showing the location where a man, a king, rode on a raft of gold.<br />The king washed god dust from his body, gold dust.<br />This was not the only confusion.<br />In addition to the two lakes<br /><br /> mythical lake Parima<br /> and crater Lake Guatavita near Bogata’<br /><br />there was also a cave<br />where a gold statue was found.<br />It was of a royal person<br />standing on a raft<br />and seemed to illustrate in National Geographic<br />that the myth of the king washing gold dust from his body<br />in a lake<br />was really a lonely mystery.Susan Kay Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-12760712967883874672012-08-04T15:03:41.389-07:002012-08-04T15:03:41.389-07:00The Butterfly
The fur on your wings makes yo...The Butterfly <br /><br />The fur on your wings makes you a lion<br />beating, testing the thin air. All the flowers<br />in the field are men and you go to each one, tasting.<br />The men flowers sing their song about pollen.<br />Their eyes are red and their guts<br />are white marble from the inside of mountains<br />pulled out from the middle of the hills.<br /><br />Now you are lifting the skirts<br />of women and birds and flowers<br />underneath the leaves of the aspens.<br />Green drunken curses. The sheep graze so quickly.Susan Kay Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-43726454914128435132012-08-04T14:57:59.121-07:002012-08-04T14:57:59.121-07:00That Damn Painted Cave
I couldn’t find it on ...That Damn Painted Cave <br /><br />I couldn’t find it on the map<br />but my eyes saw a glowing woman<br />in a field with her hands<br />spread out just so.<br /><br />I ate their spicy food<br />and cut the plums like my mother taught.<br />Flattened diamonds. The dog<br />ate poison when I wasn’t looking<br />out in the desert. The metal pipes<br />under the railroad tracks. She turned<br />into her coyote side and didn’t stop<br />following me home. Her hips in pain.<br /><br />I go to the canyon<br />looking for the stone lions—<br />the altar of the mountains.<br />Alone, I hear a bear at night. It walks<br />across my feet and then lies down beside me.<br />All crashing and noises. It was four a.m.<br />and I had run out of matches.Susan Kay Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-77117839301033203692012-08-04T09:06:18.570-07:002012-08-04T09:06:18.570-07:00beautiful hermit houses!beautiful hermit houses!Sandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17670821270960081899noreply@blogger.com